


Between

by percabethica



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, oh my god please they're just babies, post botl pre tlo???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27903706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percabethica/pseuds/percabethica
Summary: Percy wants Annabeth to come to his mom's wedding. The only problem is the unresolved tension from the fact that, you know, she sort of kissed him inside a volcano that exploded and left him presumed dead until he turned up alive and said nothing about it thus leaving her to believe that it should never have happened and her feelings should maybe stay under wraps. So, a minor issue really. A bit of angst, a bit of sweetness. Such is being 15 years old.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 130





	Between

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! Please comment or send me a message/ask at @percabethica on tumblr!! <3

Pride being her biggest weakness as it was, Annabeth took a small amount of comfort in the fact that her skilful avoidance of her best friend didn’t exactly make her proud. She was ashamed of her cowardly behaviour, but the residual stubbornness inside her refused to give up the ghost. If Percy wanted to run away from his feelings and not face up to the truth, then why should she? Why did it always have to be Annabeth who initiated something between them? 

Just seeing him around camp made her stomach tie itself up in knots. His gaze on her was only fleeting, as if the sight of her was painful to him, and she could only take as much offence as him, because she felt the same way. Being near him felt like she’d taken too much ambrosia, and her body was burning up from the inside out, like heartburn if she had literally gone up in flames. On the other side of it all, being away from him felt like watching Mount St Helens explode all over again, the blast painful and all-consuming. She ached to be near, and ached to be far away. 

At Westover Hall, she asked him to dance. Then at Hephaestus’ forge, she kissed him. He, in return, let her mourn his death for two weeks until he returned, fresh from the care of a beautiful immortal goddess, and started emphasising the importance of a beautiful mortal girl. 

As if nothing Annabeth could do or he was as good as they were. Calypso, Rachel. Other, prettier, _simpler_ girls. 

Jealousy was an ugly little emotion, and she knew it inside out. Silena gently suggested at the campfire one night that she’d been seized by the green-eyed monster, and she’d taken a few moments to realise the _monster_ in question wasn’t Percy. 

So she avoided him, and he did the same. They skirted around each other, excessively in some instances. 

One afternoon, he’d been standing near the pavilion, speaking to Connor Stoll, his eyes darting around like he wasn’t really listening. When he spotted Annabeth, he blinked and opened his mouth, but she was too quick. 

“Clarisse! I’ll help you with cabin inspections.”

“Blondie, I don’t need your-“

“I’ll _help._ ” She stressed. Clarisse glanced behind her and rolled her eyes, shaking her head. 

“Fine. I would love your help. Nothing would please me more.”

Thankfully, Clarisse couldn’t give less of a shit about Annabeth’s complications, so she didn’t ask any questions, and let her tag along in silence as she randomly filled in scores without really looking at the cabins. Annabeth let Athena’s 2 out of 5 slide, as well the impossible Ares 5 out of 5. It wasn’t until they were almost finished - only Poseidon to go - that Annabeth opened her mouth. 

Before she could even say anything, Clarisse cut her off. “Listen, Princess, I have absolutely zero interest in whatever you’re about to say. Just to let you know.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, suddenly realising the two of them were horribly similar in ways she didn’t quite like. “I was actually going to ask about you and Chris.”

“Oh.”

Clarisse turned. “Ask what, then?”

This was weird. Annabeth and Clarisse weren’t friends by any stretch, but here she was opening up like an idiot. All because of _him._

“How do you… how did you open up a dialogue with him? Like the two of you..?”

Clarisse glowered. “You ask Silena, Blondie. That’s what you do. You don’t talk to me for fucking love advice.”

So that was what she resolved to do. She remembered something about the Aphrodite cabin swapping schedules with Hermes a few weeks back so that they could have more time with the pegasi, a favourite of Silena’s, and with that in mind she left Clarisse and wandered off. 

Of course, she had no idea how she would even begin to isolate Silena to confide in her, let alone maintain some pride and dignity and avoid the gossip that seemed to follow her everywhere nowadays. 

As bad luck would have it, she didn’t have to figure that out. 

“Annabeth!” 

Percy flagged her down with the same expression on his face that she had grown to love - smiling, bright-eyed, but a little guilty and uncertain, as if he was worried he was wasting everyone’s time. She wished she could gently bump his arm and remind him that he was worth every inch of space he took up in their crazy fucked up little world, but even such friendly gestures felt tainted by her own nagging feelings now. They were insidious, infecting everything, and his upturned eyebrows and mischievous smile felt less familiar than they ever had.

He was holding something in his hand, idly fiddling with it. His other hand was awkward at the back of his neck as he stood to catch his breath, hesitant to start speaking. Surely he must’ve sensed the awkwardness too.

“Hey! I was looking for you.”

Annabeth shrugged. “Forgot what I looked like?” 

Her dry response made him laugh. Percy was really something else when he laughed - his whole chest shaking, the way his shoulders rose up and his head went back. His eyes always disappeared from crinkling so much. Annabeth ignored how warm she felt.

“Considering you look like every other Valley girl, yeah.” He quipped in response, expertly dodging her playful shove. 

“Nobody’s gonna find your body, Jackson.”

“I’d be disappointed in you if they did. If there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s sloppy work.” He laughed again, then almost seemed to turn shy. “I, uh- this is for you. My mom- yeah.”

He handed over the card. Annabeth flipped it and blinked.

_Sally Jackson and Paul Blofis would like to invite you to join them for their wedding._

_15th June, beginning 3pm._

________ Road, _______ House_

From the pretty borders decorating the card, Annabeth expected to find some impossible to decipher swirly writing, and was pleasantly surprised by the dyslexia-friendly font. It was very Sally to pay such attention to the little things, after all. Her name was scrawled messily on the top right corner - Annabeth in dark blue ink, only Percy had clearly run out of space, so it looked more like “Annabet”. Still, she looked up and beamed.

“Your mom?”

“I’m getting a stepdad!” Percy did jazz hands, then rolled his eyes. “Not sure why I did that. Anyway yeah, he proposed. She’s thrilled. I’m pretty happy too, I’ll have an actual decent stepdad this time.”

Annabeth marvelled. “Wow. Didn’t even know those existed. Very cool.”

He chuckled, then his cheeks coloured as a thought seemed to cross his mind. He continued, “So… yeah. I mentioned to my mom that I would maybe like to invite you to hang with me just so I’m not bored the whole time but she insisted on getting you your own invitation. I guess… if you wanna come?”

For all that Annabeth could thank Sally for, the sweet woman was the last thing on her mind. Percy was all she could focus on, and although she heard herself confirming that she would attend, her mind was far far away from her own tongue. Somewhere in the background she heard Percy telling her he had an activity that he was late to and that he’d see her later, and when she zoned back in, she was standing alone in the middle of camp, a wedding invitation in her hand, blinking emptily.

-

“Stop fidgeting or I’ll burn you.”

“On purpose?” Annabeth twitched, and then hissed at the scarring heat on the back of her neck. “Fucking shit! _Was_ that on purpose?”

In the mirror, Silena rolled her eyes. “Gods, you Athena girls have no tolerance. Beauty is pain, Annabeth. Or at least, it is if you don’t sit still.”

“Tell the girl with ADHD to sit still. Great strategy.”

“I’m doing you a favour, Miss Chase. Be nice to your beautician.” Silena admonished, but the lingering smile on her face said otherwise to her tone. “I have ADHD too, bitch.”

Annabeth stuck out her tongue. “Whatever. You’ve been begging me to let you make me over ever since I turned eleven, I know for a fact that you’re loving this. It’s not really a favour if you’re the one having fun.”

Silena considered it, and then shrugged. “Fine, I’ll take it. You’re so pretty anyway, it’s like the perfect canvas.”

The compliment felt strange, so Annabeth brushed it off. “The thing I don’t understand is why you had to straighten my hair to then re-curl it. Is there a reason for that?”

“Sure is.” The way Silena had a way of always coming across as a kindly big sister was honestly heartwarming at times. It was the exact comfort Annabeth needed when her heart felt so worn thin. “You wanted curls so that it doesn’t look like you put in too much effort, but doing it this way means your curls will be neat. Ideally I would’ve gotten you some curl products so you could’ve washed your hair and styled it naturally but you didn’t give me enough time. You know how I operate, Annabeth.”

Annabeth laughed. “Fuck, Silena, it’s not my wedding day, I’m only a guest. You can spend the whole day primping if _I’m_ the bride, alright?”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I bet you will.”

“Hair’s done. Gods, you’re gorgeous. Now go behind this little screen here, I got it out just for you. There’s like three dresses of mine behind there that I think will look great on you, just pick your favourite and put it on.”

Annabeth did as she was told. “Any reason they’re all the same shade of blue?”

“Not at all.” Silena didn’t even miss a beat. “Anyway… Percy invited you, huh?”

“His mom invited me.”

“Percy _wanted_ to.”

She sighed. “Do you think it’s gonna be awkward tonight? Things have been so weird between us lately.”

Usually Silena would tease, but daughter of Aphrodite as she was, her emotional intelligence was the sharpest Annabeth had ever encountered, and she had already picked up on the slight change in tone of her voice. To tell the truth, as she watched her own reflection, Annabeth’s heart was hammering at the thought of being in such an intimate setting with Percy. She still wasn’t sure if she’d forgiven him for the volcano, but was leaning towards a no. 

“It’s gonna be great, Annabeth, trust me.” She said softly. “Maybe this is what you guys need. A chance to relax and hang out away from all of this.”

She was probably right, Annabeth thought absently as she zipped up another dress. As chaotic as their lives were currently, she didn’t exactly want to lose her best friend. Not when she’d already lost so much… and especially not when she was starting to fear she would never get it back. 

“I think I like this one,” She said in lieu of a response to Silena, and stepped out. 

Silena’s eyes popped open, and she shook her head before composing herself. “For the love of Aphrodite. If that son of Poseidon doesn’t snap you up, I’m taking you for myself. That’s a threat.”

Annabeth giggled at her. “Oh my Gods. Somehow that’s such a weird coupling. Athena and Aphrodite?”

“Weirder than Athena and Poseidon?” Silena snorted, Annabeth conceding that she had a fair point. “Anyway, if he’s an idiot tonight, tell him you’re gonna run away to be my bride. If he’s nice, tell him I’ll do your hair and makeup for the wedding, too. _Shit,_ my dresses look good on you.”

As much as she hated to be complimented so openly, Annabeth kinda had to agree. The navy satin fabric hugged her waist and fell softly from her hips, reaching just above her knees, the cowl neck strangely suiting her. Maybe - although she’d never admit it - she should borrow Silena’s clothes more often. 

“Who knew we were the exact same size, huh?”

“Magic clothes,” Silena winked, her eye twinkling. “Kidding, sorta. Your tits are better than mine, though.”

Annabeth thwacked her friend’s arm, blushing. “You’re awful. All you Aphrodite girls are nothing but filthy perverts.”

“All of us?” She cried, faux-dramatic as ever. “How many of my sisters have been perving on you? That’s _my_ privilege, dammit! Anyway!” She pressed a kiss to Annabeth’s cheek and then grabbed her by the arms, shaking her excitedly. “Get going, you. It’s gonna be amazing, I promise. You and Percy can get through any obstacle, you’ve already proven that.” 

“I hope so.” Annabeth bit her lip, her doubt starting to creep in already. 

Silena swatted her arm to stop her. “I know so. Don’t keep Argus waiting.”

-

Upon arrival, Annabeth’s first port of call - after finding her seat and nodding hello to Paul - was hightailing it to the bathroom and slamming her bag down on the counter beside the sink. Everything was so wrong already, and she cursed herself for her lack of judgement and how easily she’d accepted Percy’s invite.

What the hell had she been thinking?

This was ridiculous. The more she stared in the mirror, the more that Silena’s exquisitely precise handiwork started to look garish and childlike. Where her eyes had been subtly defined and her lips neatly outlined, she felt clownish and exaggerated, everything too bright and too much and too wide. Every flaw seemed highlighted by the makeup and bathroom lighting, leaving her a poorly-done portrait of trying too hard. Who was she even kidding with this? Did she really think that a bit of makeup from an Aphrodite girl would fix the flaws?

Truthfully, did the warm brown bring out the blue in Annabeth’s eyes, or emphasise the empty grey? Was her complexion softened by the gentle dusting of powder or was she dry, cracked, unnatural? She was still scarred, still angry-looking, still too harsh. Annabeth thought about Rachel, her flushed fair skin and her bright grin and her self-confidence, unwavering even with Annabeth’s undermining. She thought about Calypso, a goddess, who was without a doubt effortlessly gorgeous, a gentle nurturing type of beauty, someone who oozed safety and security and prettiness without a second thought. She thought of herself, always a danger, trying to be someone she wasn’t, trying to be like the girls she never could.

More than anything, she wished she could wipe everything away and run out of the door. Silena had worked hard, and Annabeth had felt pretty, and then she was reminded of how Percy really knew her. After all, he’d seen her tired and starving, bloodied and scraped and sobbing, angry and hostile. A bit of makeup wouldn’t fool him into thinking she was beautiful, not when he knew the truth,

Besides - she’d kissed him. She’d already ruined things by kissing him, because now _surely_ he knew she had some kind of feeling towards him, and how awkward for him to have to balance that when girls like Rachel and Calypso were vying for him. What was Annabeth, his old friend and persistent annoyance, to them?

“Fuck,” She whispered, her anger directed at both herself and the mirror. “What am I doing?”

One of the cubicles flushed - Annabeth wasn’t alone. Her face reddened, but in one small mercy, the makeup prevented it from being visible. After a few moments, Sally came out, almost ready except for the bathrobe and slippers on her feet.

She smiled as she started to wash her hands. “Oh! Annabeth, so glad you could make it. Is everything okay?”

Annabeth started, then nodded uncertainly. “Uh, yeah, I’m okay. You- You look amazing, Sally, you must be so excited.”

She grinned. “I am. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you all dressed up before, you look very pretty yourself.”

“I wouldn’t get used to it,” Annabeth replied, wishing she was anywhere else. She couldn’t exactly ditch the wedding now that Sally had seen her. “It’s not really my thing.”

“Me neither.” Sally shrugged. “You don’t need it, anyway.” 

Annabeth fiddled with a stray curl, feeling awkward, when Sally spoke again.

“Percy’s glad you’re here.” She said, her expression unreadable. “He wanted to greet you, but he’s been busy being my helper all day. I can tell he’s missed you, though, and it’ll be nice for him to have some company.”

There was something in her gaze that Annabeth couldn’t decipher. She looked back at the mirror, frustrated that Sally’s message seemed lost in translation, and tried to push down her creeping thoughts about her own appearance. 

“I’ve missed him too. I’ve been pretty busy with… uh, preparation.” She didn’t want to go into detail about the looming war - not on Sally’s wedding day. Thankfully, she seemed to know that, and nodded wisely.

“Right. Well, I should go get my dress on. I’ll see you in a little while, sweetheart.”

When she was gone, Annabeth let out a long breath and willed the butterflies in her stomach to settle down at the very least, if they were going to set themselves on fire as they had. The feeling, however, seemed determined to stick with her, turning her stomach right up until she had sat down alone on a row and the music had started and the doors were opening, the wedding beginning.

Sally was dressed beautifully and simply in a mostly-plain white dress, her arm curled around Percy’s. He looked nervously proud as he walked his mom down the aisle, squeezing her tight before joining Annabeth in the same row and offering a smile. He had clearly attempted to tame his hair, to little success, but he was smartly dressed in a black tuxedo with a navy blue tie, an odd sort of formality that she hadn’t expected to ever see him in. While everyone watched the bride, Annabeth wondered when her best friend had grown up so much, and inwardly wished he was a little less pretty.

Still, she did her best to smile back at him, brief as it was, and focused in on the wedding as best as she could. It didn’t help, but at least she tried.

-

Avoiding Percy was damn near impossible, once the reception started, and so Annabeth bit the bullet and sat down at an empty table, knowing he would come to join her as soon as he noticed. It was weird to be a wedding knowing almost nobody, and even weirder that she had no idea what the etiquette of a wedding like this would even be. The majority of the guests were Paul’s family and friends, and a few scattered people from Sally’s old jobs. Annabeth felt bizarrely out of place, but under no circumstances was she going to show it.

At the very least, she appreciated the effort that had been made. The room was small, fairly modest, with a dance floor and stage in the middle, and white-covered tables around for the guests to eat and drink at. Most of the adults were up, mingling and chatting or dancing, so Percy was easy to spot. He headed over with another smile and flopped down next to her.

“So many balloons, huh?” He said by way of greeting. “I’m not convinced I have any breath left.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes affectionately. “And yet you’re still talking. Clearly the balloon pump did all the work and not you.”

Percy shrugged. “What can I say? You’re right, as usual.” He stopped, suddenly, and regarded her with an unusual expression. “You look nice. Uh, really nice. Did Silena do your makeup?”

“And the hair, and the dress.” Annabeth nodded. “I feel like a totally different person tonight.”

“You look like it.” He agreed, then faltered. “I mean - no. Not - not like that. I mean you look great, but I’m not used to you looking like this so it’s weird. No, no, not weird. Weird is wrong, that sounds bad. You look nice, I swear! But, you look nice without it too, so… Oh gods, I don’t know. Am I doing anything right here?”

Annabeth laughed, putting him out of his misery. “You get plus ten best friend points for telling me I look nice. Let’s leave it at that, yeah?”

He chuckled. “My brain and my mouth aren’t in communication right now, it’s been a long day. Yay for the best friend points, though.”

She fist-bumped him. “You cleaned up pretty well yourself, Jackson. I didn’t think you owned a tux.”

If anything, Annabeth was glad for her own ability to feign nonchalance, a skill she’d been cultivating for years. He looked incredible, the outfit well-fitted and his eyes sparkling with a special kind of joy, and she was struck with the realisation that the scrawny passed-out kid at the top of Half-Blood Hill was long gone, and this handsome idiot was his replacement. Her heart did a couple of flips which her face refused to betray.

“You would be correct in that assumption, O Wise and Mighty One,” He joked. “The jacket belongs to my new stepdad. We attempted the trousers, but they were way too short because he’s tiny.”

“Or you grew like three inches in the space of a month.” She countered, giggling at his affirming grin. “Which I’m so mad about. We’ve been the same height for _months._ ”

“And now I’ll be taller than you forever.” Her small amount of irritation at his growth spurt was worth the look on his face, a sort of smug yet genial pride, the soft kind of affection reserved only for the closest of friends and family. Annabeth’s worries from earlier seemed to melt unconsciously to the background - none of that competition mattered when she was here, with him, and _she_ was the one who had been invited, and _she_ was the one on the receiving end of his fond looks. His mouth curled up in his usual smirk, one corner always slightly higher than the other, the lopsided expression awarding him an air of mischief that perfectly complemented his features. He’d grown into his face, if that made any sense, and her feelings seemed justified even if they were misplaced.

“So what did you do about the trousers?”

“Thrift store.” Percy wiggled his eyebrows. “Ten dollars.”

Annabeth nodded, laughing. “Smart. That’s a good investment.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, observing the wedding guests with a lazy interest. A couple of kids ran around and picked at handfuls of crisps from the buffet table, prompting Percy to spring up with promises of a feast, and returning with two drinks and a paper plate with a pitiful helping of cocktail sausages and tiny cakes. As they nibbled, their attention turned onto Sally and Paul, laughing with friends, oblivious to anything else but each other.

Must’ve been nice.

“I’ve never actually been to a wedding before, you know.” Annabeth spoke up. “Not properly, anyway. I was five when my dad got married, and I mostly just sat in the coatroom the whole time. It wasn’t much fun.”

She wasn’t sure where the urge to confide had come from, but something about the scene seemed right. The lights were low and soft, music was playing, they had to speak up a little to be heard. Nothing was real here; nothing she said would really count once it was over.

Percy rested his foot on the table, almost knocking it. “I was at the first one.” He told her, his voice a little colder than normal. “It wasn’t much of a fuss, but that was when he was still being nice to us. Back when the guy would actually shower and smile. It went downhill from there.”

Gods. As if they weren’t both fucked up enough by the immortal side of their families.

“I’m glad this one is better. For both of us.”

“Me too.” Percy sighed, but not unhappily. “And her. My mom is _so_ happy with Paul, he really loves her. It’s awesome to see her being treated the way she deserves. Aphrodite finally did her a solid.”

Annabeth sent off a silent prayer that she would get the same treatment, though she doubted it. As she remembered saying to Malcolm once - when she was about eight years old, but the sentiment was the same - if you wanted something done, the best way to do it was to simply do it yourself.

She shifted into a proper sitting position, relieving her back from the weird slouch they’d fallen into, and faced Percy properly. Almost everyone had flocked to the dancefloor as the opening notes of Don’t Stop Believin’ started up, and whether they were going to ignore or address the fact that Annabeth had kissed her best friend in a volcano, she was _not_ going to miss out on the fun because he chickened out of asking her.

“Will you dance with me?” She asked bluntly.

Percy looked surprised - of course he did. He always seemed as though he could never predict what she would say next, even though he should’ve grown used to this dynamic by now. As nervous as she felt, her butterflies had settled into a comfortable buzzing, excited and familiar all at once. Then, he grinned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” He stood up, then offered his hand to help her up. “Least I can do, ‘cus of the dress. Which is pretty, by the way.”

Annabeth, again, thanked every god and goddess in her mind that the makeup miraculously covered her furious blush. “Thanks. It’s Silena’s, I just had to borrow something.”

She was, of course, very conscious of the fact that her navy dress was perfectly matched to Percy’s tie, and wondered if Silena knew, or if this was some kind of Aphrodite magic that she had a sixth sense for. Either way, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap her or sing her praises.

“You should keep it,” He commented, painfully honest. “It suits you. Alright, fuck it, we need to dance.”

They skirted to the edge of the dancefloor. A small part of Annabeth tried to step outside of herself, to evaluate how she looked and how she was acting and to criticise every little thing that would make her look stupid, but the bigger part fought it off and won. Yeah, she did look stupid, and for the love of Zeus, so did he. They were screaming the words together, their voices breathy from jumping around and tangling with everyone else’s in the room, a strange sort of camaraderie bonding everyone through the song. They went back-to-back doing air guitar together, the both of them ruining their hair with all the head banging, their stomachs aching with screeches of laughter at how ridiculous it all was. 

New songs started and finished, but they hardly noticed the change, continuing to dance wildly and dramatically singing the words at each other. At one point, she was twirling him as if he wasn’t six foot tall, and he revealed his weird talent for doing the robot, and she swore she was going to split in half from her laughter-induced stitch, and hours were passing without either of their notice.

Time only seemed to catch up with them as people started to clear from the dance floor, lots of them sitting down or standing around to talk again. Annabeth vaguely recognised the song that was starting - More Than A Woman - and noticed Sally and Paul dancing together, quietly enveloped in their own little world. Percy had momentarily dipped aside to grab them another drink, the two of them exhausted from dancing, and when he returned, he shook his head in their direction.

“I was just about to badger her for a mother-son dance, but she clearly has a new favourite, so I won’t interrupt.” He fake-sniffed, and smiled. “And I like this song, too. Not my usual type, but mom always loved it, so I did too.”

Annabeth giggled. “Mama’s boy.”

“And what about it?” He retorted, his grin betraying his stern tone and the ridiculously New York accent that had come out with it. “Nothin’ wrong with being a mama’s boy, Annabeth. I resent that.”

“I bet you do, Seaweed Brain.” She raised an eyebrow. “Let them dance, they look happy.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not gonna mess things up. I’ll leave them be.”

Only a few people were left dancing now - Annabeth became aware that they were just stood talking. Percy seemed to realise the same thing, and after a moment of hesitation, he got over himself.

“Hey,” He repeated, his voice a little softer than before - on accident, she presumed. “You want one last dance? I would, if you’re willing.”

He was looking at her, his gaze gentle. He was looking at her. Had he looked at Rachel like this? Or Calypso? Did she care? Did they even exist right now?”

“I think I can spare one more.” She replied, equally as gentle.

Somewhat uncertain, his hands made their way to her waist, and he let out a little awkward laugh. Annabeth placed hers on his shoulders, his increased height suddenly less of an annoyance than she had previously thought. It was… nice, actually. To look slightly upwards at him, to hold each other however feather-light their touches were, to sway together to a song that sounded like the twinkling wedding lights.

If there was a war impending, if there was unresolved tension between two best friends, if anything remotely bad was happening anywhere - it was gone, faded into nothing. All that existed was this room, this song, the two hands on her waist and the two eyes watching her. That was enough.


End file.
